Miscarriage :: The Path that Picked Me {Infertility Awareness}

Miscarriage is an easy rabbit hole to get lost in, especially in this everything-is-Googleable-world. And I like answers. Unsolved mysteries don’t sit well in my mind because I need to be able to digest and understand them fully. In 2015, I experienced back-to-back miscarriages. I found out I was pregnant in April and miscarried in May, followed by my second pregnancy in July, which also ended that same month. And, here’s a doozie; the second miscarriage was happening during my husband’s and my wedding celebration. Yep! I had to wear a white dress and entertain family and friends and keep myself from breaking down while my body was ridding itself of a pregnancy. Talk about a roller coaster of emotions! I quickly found myself drifting into a world I knew nothing about. A sad world, where sometimes, you don’t get an answer.

I heard a lot of things — or opinions, I should say — during this time. Some served as temporary band-aids, some hurt my feelings, and some were actually what I needed to hear. Nonetheless, I still felt awful, alone, and devastated. So, I took to eating my feelings, obsessively planning my next pregnancy (what was I thinking?!), and finding my own answers by reading everything I could about miscarriage. I gained 30 pounds in a year. SURPRISE! I was pregnant with pizza! That extra weight on top of the pressure I was putting on myself to get pregnant was just not healthy. My body knew that, but my brain didn’t.  

I went to doctors, specialists, high-risk OB-GYN’s, and even psychics to gain insight. I got suggestions, opinions, and personal experience stories, but no answers. This led to me beating myself up about what I did wrong. Something I did must’ve caused this, right? I must’ve indulged in too much wine, too much caffeine, not enough exercise, not enough vitamins. I was telling myself that I was the cause of all of this because I had no answers. And it was easy to do this. I had just gotten a job with a company that allowed me to work from home, and my husband had recently deployed. I was alone with our two dogs and my thoughts during this time. Those thoughts were dangerous and encompassed everything I did.

Some things I had heard from others didn’t help either. It was such an early miscarriage. Be happy it wasn’t further along …. The baby must’ve not been healthy … We didn’t consider it a pregnancy that early on in my day. All of that. All of the comments that were probably meant to make me feel better, did the opposite. Those comments diminished two pregnancies, two deaths. And I have to admit, I told myself some of those same things early on, but the more I thought about it and how much my heart still hurt, the more I came to resent those words. I had hopes and plans and love for TWO children that I never held or felt kick or even had a name picked out for, but they were real. No amount of time could dictate how much love I had for those babies. Day 1 or Day 100 — that was not a unit of measurement for the love I had for the lives I had carried. The only difference with these losses was that there was no funeral for them, so we didn’t have to acknowledge them, right? At least, that’s how I felt. Everyone moved on, the world continued to turn and life went on … for everyone but me.

Eventually, about a year after my last miscarriage, I got tired of everything. My obsessive researching, pregnancy planning, detrimental thoughts, and eating my feelings needed to exit my life. I needed to think of things, any things, other than those topics. I needed to plan vacations and BBQ’s and wine nights with my friends. I needed to dive into a new hobby. I needed so much. So, my husband and I planned visits with friends and a cruise to the Bahamas, and I found a new hobby that I loved! I began to foster shelter dogs so they could move on to find a permanent home through rescue organizations. My husband and I began a new weight loss routine and we both dropped 30 pounds together. Things were great! And I finally put the puzzle pieces together. I still had no answers — nothing to explain the miscarriages — but maybe I didn’t need them. Maybe I needed to learn how to dig myself out of a world that I never wanted to be introduced to. Maybe I needed to feel what it was like to live and laugh and love and let my brain be dictated by happy thoughts. And maybe I really needed to experience that sadness.

Those losses will always be a part of what happened to me, but I will no longer let them control my every move. I will not let them cause me fear about growing my family again. I will not let them make me feel less than. I will let them remind me about what’s important in life. And I will let them keep me on a positive path with less worry and more happy. Worrying got me nothing but unhealthy. It didn’t give me the answers I had originally wanted, but it did give me a new outlook and resolve. The truth is, there is no reason that could ever make me feel better about the miscarriages. Placing blame on something won’t fill in the cracks in my heart or bring those babies back. And nothing ever will. But living a good life is what I owe to myself, my future children, and to the two souls that never got to meet their mama.   

In recognition of National Infertility Awareness Week, we are seeking to raise awareness about this struggle by sharing stories from local moms who have been in, or are currently in, this difficult place. Through this series, we hope to provide encouragement for women who are facing infertility, as well as perspective for those supporting them in the battle. Thank you to the courageous women who have shared a piece of your motherhood journey as part of this series.